


For Himself

by Shipper (Lusa_chi)



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Time Travel, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 19:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lusa_chi/pseuds/Shipper
Summary: As far as people were concerned, he was dead. Along with everyone he held dear. Perhaps it was pure luck or someone up there taking pity on him- because instead of nothingness after he died, he came into existence outside the veil. He saw the lines of fates. Each path. Each decision- made by others, by himself, and alternatives, and yet all lead to one path. The only decisions that mattered most was those made by Potter.He was the Child blessed by Fates and everything in the universe revolves around him. And then the final truth was revealed to him- he was only a character in a story. The story of Harry Potter. He was but an insignificant little insect, a stepping-stone for the main character to show-off their goodness and talents inside a tragic story that was made for the entertainment of real people.He was…nothing. That…hurts. Not just his pride but his very existence and meaning of everything he has ever worked for. But then Draco’s Slytherin nature kicked in, calmed him down, and he begin to think. Then, he acted and here he is, possessing, for a lack of better term, the body of younger self.He just wanted to give himself a chance to make his own fate.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	For Himself

**July 1st, 1991**

Draco silvery eyelashes fluttered as he gazed down into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley from the second-floor balcony of a private room at Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlor.

Unbeknownst to many, Mister Fortescue also provided a private dining establishment upstairs, filled with exquisite dishes and desserts that was kept away from his more children-friendly ice-cream shop. It was reserved only for the rich and the powerful folks of the Wizarding World. It was one that was warded against the eyes of the public including reporters, from the Daily Prophet as well as pedestrians.

Clever man, Mister Fortescue.

He watched Potter walked into Gringotts Wizarding Bank with the giant. People shifted unconsciously out of his way, showed him deference, even the giant. No one saw it, of course, and all is blind to the beautiful threads of power that wrapped itself around Potter like a cocoon except for him.

Wrapping a hand around the deviant Time-Turner, disguised as a tasteful silver-emerald locket around his neck, Draco tucked it back into his shirt and withdraw from the second-floor balcony.

He paid and made his way into the streets of Diagon Alley. People watched as he passed by. Some discreet, some not so discreet. Some even drooled much to his disgust but this… _attention_ was a small price to pay to awakening some of his more dormant Veela genes prematurely. It was weak enough to not mesmerize and draw too much attention, but strong enough for people to give him what he wants without much effort.

Soft silvery blonde hair that curled at the nape of his neck. Skin pale and soft as silk. Silver-blue eyes large and as innocent-appearing as he wants himself to be, framed by dark lashes. The fact that he was barely looked like he was of age to attend Hogwarts certainly helped with the air of naiveté he wanted to project. 

Playing the weak. It was not something he has ever done before but he was not above it.

After all, Potter and all his friends played the victim well enough over the years.

It would take some time to get used to his new mask, but he was not in a hurry to introduce himself to Harry Potter. He had more plans that revolve around saving his parents and protecting the name Malfoy than those that involved the Boy-Who-Lived.

He entered Flourish and Blotts. He bought the appropriate first-year books he’s already read a few hundred times, along with a few selections in French Wizarding customs and dialects, before heading towards Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. There, a Witch greeted him with warm smile and lead him to the back where he was fitted for his robes.

A few minutes later, while he was standing on a brown wooden stool while a Witch putter away at the hem of his new, _gray_ , school robe when Potter entered the store.

Witches and Wizards alike almost stopped what they were doing to stare at the child that was to be the Savior of the Wizarding World- hell, he already has by obliterating Voldemort’s earthly body, giving them a few years of peace before the Great and Final War that doomed them all.

To Draco, the boy was almost pathetically small, with messy black curls framing a small pale face that was more sickly than delicate. His clothes were too large for his skinny frame and despite being clean, appeared worn and old. The only impressive thing, besides his iconic scar, was his green eyes that glowed eerily like an _Avada Kedavra_ spell.

And Draco have seen such spells, both by himself and done at him. 

Brushing a stray silver lock of hair back from his forehead, Draco kept his eyes downcast towards the witch with a knee on his robes as Potter stepped up to the stool next to him. Pale lashes fluttered against his cheeks like the softest feathers. He ignored the curious looks Potter sent him and waited for the witch to finish. Then, as he stepped down the stool and absentmindedly look up, only to find Potter staring at him.

Potter flushed.

Draco smiled shyly, amused, and satisfied at the reaction as the boy turned even redder. Draco thanked the Witch that assisted his fitting and left the store.

He met his mother at the door of The Leaky Cauldron where she was waiting with their house-elf Dolly at her heels, carrying stacks upon stacks of boxes higher than the head of the house-elf.

“All for me, mother?” Draco grinned playfully as gave his mother a warm hug.

“Some for your father,” Narcissa replied, blue eyes twinkling. “Now where is your father?”

“I assume at Flourish and Blotts where I left him with the Minister, and one Mister Cuffe in deep conversation.” Draco said.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. “More business talks?”

“I think he’s planning on buying the Daily Prophet.” Draco replied, his eyes warm. In the last few years, his father’s desire for more power has been slowly pushed towards expanding their financial empire. Well, ever since Draco removed the Death Eater tattoo and the planted the suggestions slowly in his mind. Once a day, like clockwork for an entire month.

A great decision too, since his father is now far too busy to consort with other Death Eaters and their family name, Malfoy, was known throughout both the Wizarding World and among the Muggles as one of the richest in the world. Fourth, in fact, in the world. With his encouragement, the Malfoy name also gained fame among philanthropic circles, donating to orphanages both Wizarding and Muggles alike.

Buying the Daily Prophet would ensure that the Malfoy name remained above the mud once Voldemort returns.

His mother also never looked happier because for once, his father was working to ensure their protection no matter what happens. Even if in the future Lucius Malfoy chooses to stand with Voldemort again, they would not be persecuted and even if they were, half of their financial holdings was in the Muggle World, protected by the best Gringotts financial advisors.

“Alright, wait inside with Dolly. I’ll send a message to your father to meet us at home for dinner, else suffer the consequences of my wrath.” Narcissa murmured, guiding him towards the doors as she drew her wand.

“Yes, mother,” Draco replied sweetly before entering the inn.

Eyes strayed towards the doors as he entered, lingering on his face. Draco appeared not to notice as he made his way towards the bar, where Dolly helped him on.

“A butterbeer, please,” Draco said softly.

“Four sickles,” replied Tom, a stout man with gray sideburns replied. His features were bland with not much to note. However, if one looks closely enough, one could see the semblance between him and the majestic Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, which is not unusual since they were brothers, but few knows of that relationship. The famous Professor would probably like to keep it that way.

Now why would he do that? Draco have always wondered.

Dolly put down six sickles and Tom swiped the money as he put down a large mug of Butterbeer.

“Thank you,” Draco murmured as he smiled at the old man, sifting through his surface thoughts before falling deeper. He let the thoughts and memories flow, never touching, letting it ebb and flow around him, watching and taking note. The man was pleasantly surprised that a Malfoy could be polite without any sort of malice.

Then leaving the barkeeper’s mind without leaving a single trace that he was there.

“Yer welcome Mister Malfoy,” Tom replied with a small grin as he turned to serve another customer.

“A butterbeer, please Tom, and dinner for one.” Said a young voice behind him, followed by the soft flapping of wings.

Draco glanced at him discreetly without much interest before continuing to enjoy his Butterbeer, even as everyone paused what they were doing to whisper about the child who defeated Voldemort.

A Malfoy had better manners than to stare.

A warm, familiar hand touched his shoulder and Draco set down his drink, half-finished.

“Come, your father is waiting outside.”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “We’re Apparating back?” There was a perfectly working Floo in the corner of the room. Then again, he did have on one of his favorite robes and his hair looked absolutely perfect today.

His mother raised an eyebrow at him, and Draco obediently hopped off from his stool. He nodded politely at Tom. “Goodbye Tom, thank you for the Butterbeer.”

He glanced back once as they left the Leaky Cauldron, finding Potter discreetly staring after him and gave him a shy smile, turning the boy red.

The reaction amused and pleased him. He glanced at the white owl Potter held before following his mother out of the bar.

After all, a Malfoy is never the one who does the chasing and it would not do for Fate to catch a whiff of what he was going to do to her Savior.


End file.
